


Hard Landings

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dragged to Safety, Gen, Mission Gone Wrong, Not Great Master Qui-Gon, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Is Emotionally Not Helpful, Ship Crash, Whumptober 2020, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: There’d been an explosion. Obi-Wan vaguely remembered it; mostly as snatches of noise and light. Pain. They’d been...escorting VIzier Jullap, hadn’t they? Taking him… Obi-Wan couldn’t recall, the memories slipping away from him like water through his fingers.They’d been in a ship. He remembered that much. And there’d been an explosion and the ground coming up too fast and--
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 44
Kudos: 154





	Hard Landings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober 2020 (my last big one!) for the "concussion" and "accident" prompts. Set fairly early on in Obi-Wan's apprenticeship. He's around fifteen here.

Obi-Wan woke up in the dark. He coughed and regretted it, immediately, because it jolted agony up through his ribs and into his head. He’d never felt anything quite like the agony that swam up through his head; it brought with it bright colors and nausea that hit like a brick.

He barely managed to roll as he gagged, unable to stop himself from retching, all at once, before he was all the way conscious.

It made his head hurt worse.

He lay, for a moment, in the dark, afterwards, tasting vomit in his mouth and smelling it in his nose. His stomach knotted and he swallowed, trying to suppress the reflex to gag once more, reaching out to the Force for assistance with the process.

He did not gag again and managed to push himself away from the mess he’d made, not going far before he bumped into something hard and cold. He leaned against it - a wall, he thought, blearily - and tried to remember what had happened.

There’d been, he recalled, muzzily, an explosion. He and Master Jinn had been--

He lurched, heart pounding in his chest as he stretched his hands out through the dark, looking for another form, for Master Jinn’s robes, for--

He located Master Jinn more through the Force than anything else, drawn to the flickering spark of his presence. Obi-Wan bumped his hands against his Master’s shoulder, up to his head - twisted to one side - over his brow and jaw.

Obi-Wan was breathing too fast. He swallowed, trying to concentrate on slowing down his breath, and unable to manage. He could not concentrate his thoughts enough to find balance in the Force. His head swam and he thought, sincerely, that he might be ill again.

Obi-Wan swallowed, hard, there in the dark, a slow thought suggesting, hazily, that light might help. He fumbled at his belt, managed to grab his lightsaber, and held it carefully away from them both before activating it. He made a low sound as it provided illumination.

There’d been an explosion. Obi-Wan vaguely remembered it; mostly as snatches of noise and light. Pain. They’d been...escorting VIzier Jullap, hadn’t they? Taking him… Obi-Wan couldn’t recall, the memories slipping away from him like water through his fingers.

They’d been in a ship. He remembered that much. And there’d been an explosion and the ground coming up too fast and--

They were still in the ship. What remained of the ship. Obi-Wan had ended up thrown against one wall, mostly intact, he thought, though his head continued to hurt, fierce and terrible. Master Jinn had not been so lucky.

The ship had caved down onto him, like a hungry beast trying to consume him. Twisted metal was pressed against his body. Perhaps into his body. Obi-Wan swallowed, able to feel that his Master still lived through the Force, shivering.

He turned away, after a moment, carefully; moving too quickly made the nausea impossible to handle, as he found out, retching again. He needed to find the Vizier. He found, instead, the front of the ship torn apart, open to the outside air.

And the dark was from the night, Obi-Wan realized. It was not pure black, the darkness around him. There were faint lights, distant in the firmament. He straightened, standing on unsteady feet, looking at the world around him. There were trees, everywhere. A great dark streak behind them, he assumed from the crash.

And, some distance away, crumpled against a tree, the VIzier.

Obi-Wan wobbled over to him, unsteadily. His eyes told him there were actually two Viziers against the tree, but he dismissed that, resisting the urge to shake his head to clear his vision. Moving his head at all was a mistake, he’d already learned that.

He knelt, carefully, as he reached the tree, reaching out for the Vizier. He was alive, Obi-Wan decided, after a moment. Or, at least he was still breathing. Obi-Wan looked at the twist of his spine, felt the erratic flutter of his heart, and then gazed across at the nothingness, all around them.

The Vizier was alive. Technically. Obi-Wan had seen enough people dead even if they were still breathing to recognize another one. Sometimes, the heart and lungs just took a while to catch up to the damage done to the rest of the body. Obi-Wan blinked, rapidly, his eyes hot and stinging, his breath catching in the back of his throat, thinking about--

About things that wouldn’t help, in his current circumstances. He scrubbed at his face, hissing as he jarred an injury that stretched from his cheek up into his hair. He probed the injury with careful fingers, going still at the heat radiating out of it, and shivering.

And then he pulled off his cloak and started tearing it to strips. He wrapped one around his head; it took him three tries. His fingers couldn’t seem to manage a knot. He kept losing track of what he was doing, having to restart, but he managed it, eventually, though it left his head pounding, even worse.

He exhaled, covered the Vizier with what remained of his cloak, and wobbled to his feet again.

#

Obi-Wan could not clearly remember the explosion or the crash. But he  _ did  _ remember flying over a town, some ways back, down the mountains. A city, he thought, would have medics. Someone who could help them. A communications array.  _ Something _ .

Getting to the city, though, could be a problem.

He limped back into the ship, back to Master Jinn, who had not stirred at all. He was hurt, badly, but his spine had not been broken, as near as Obi-Wan could tell. Obi-Wan knelt by his head and put a hand on his chest, trying to reach out with the Force.

It felt like he got static back, something that itched inside his head, but…

But he had to believe that Master Jinn would be fine. His Master was strong in the Force and healthy. He’d be fine, if Obi-Wan could just get him the treatment he needed. There was… a lot of blood around him, but--

Obi-Wan shoved the thoughts away. His mind was too shattered to deal with ‘buts’ on top of everything else. Master Jinn was hurt. He needed help. The city might have that help. Therefore, Obi-Wan needed to get him there.

It made logical sense, laid out like that.

Obi-Wan sniffed, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, and fought to stop seeing two versions of his Master, laying so still and pale.

#

Obi-Wan needed to get Master Jinn to help. That was, he knew, easier said than done. Master Jinn was so much taller, so much heavier than him. He  _ could  _ carry his Master, especially with the help of the Force, but not for a great distance and not, he considered, with his head hurting so badly he could barely walk in a straight line.

He ended up standing, staring at the trees, his head buzzing with something he was trying to remember and could not quite reach. He shivered, trying to wrestle the memory into place, and exhaled shakily when it finally settled.

Master Mundi had taught various survival skills, while Obi-Wan was in the crèche. Including how to fashion a crude sled. Obi-Wan swallowed and looked at the trees, turning on his lightsaber again as the suns started to rise overhead.

#

Making a sled had seemed easier, back on Coruscant. Obi-Wan knelt in the dirt, staring at the three thin trees he’d cut and stripped of branches. Each step of the process required him to fight with his own head and his hands, which half the time did things he didn’t want them to do.

He tore smaller strips out of his tunic, arranging the sticks, binding them together to make a triangular shape. The two longer sticks stuck out forward, perhaps too much, but enough for Obi-Wan to grab. He nodded, regretted it, and dragged the crude sled over to the ship.

Master Jinn was still alive, thank the Force. He was still unconscious. Obi-Wan looked at Master Jinn, ignoring the way he swayed on his feet, and tried to think about what he was supposed to do next. He had to get Master Jinn  _ onto  _ the sled. That was right. Put him on the sled. Drag him to the city. To help.

And then everything would be fine.

Obi-Wan braced a hand on the side of the ship, looking at the way it had crushed down on Master Jinn, and drew his lightsaber once more. He tried to cut carefully, because the world kept shifting around on him, behind his eyes.

#

Obi-Wan did not try to remove the parts of the ship sunk down into Master Jinn’s side. They were, he felt vaguely sure, keeping the blood in. That was important. He murmured apologies as he tugged off Master Jinn’s cloak, stretching it across the frame of sticks he’d made. 

He apologized, again, as he dragged Master Jinn over and onto it, having to stop twice along the way to breathe around the nausea in his throat. He left a trail of blood behind, connecting the ship to the sled, to Master Jinn, getting greyer by the moment.

Obi-Wan stood, swaying, and looked back to the Vizier, to his cloak, covering the man.

Obi-Wan’s chest ached, terribly. His eyes burned. He limped over to the Vizier and took the cloak, gut clenching to find the man still breathing, somehow. Obi-Wan stood there, hands balled in his cloak, but he could not drag them both out, not at the same time, and the Vizier’s spine was - was twisted around the wrong way and--

Jedi had to be clear-headed. They had to move past the agony of death.

Obi-Wan said, “I’m so sorry,” and took the cloak, the tiny kindness he’d tried to offer, back to Master Jinn, to bind up his injuries as well as he could, ignoring the warmth and wetness on his cheeks as he wept.

At least, he thought, blurry, Master Jinn was not awake to see his weakness.

#

Master Jinn was heavy, Obi-Wan considered, lifting the front of the sled and wobbling alarmingly as his head swam. But nothing was truly impossible to move, not with the Force. Obi-Wan wished he could grip onto the Force in more than passing, wished he could concentrate.

He swallowed more nausea down into his gut and took a step in the direction where he was pretty sure he’d seen the town. It was, in any case, down hill. That was good enough, for the moment. 

He looked over at the Vizier, as he dragged the sled past, blinked rapidly, and kept going, He had no other, better choices. Staying, trying to tend them both, would only result in both of them dying. And so he didn’t stay, tripping along, instead, off through the trees.

#

The trees blurred and danced. Sometimes they appeared and then disappeared again, twinning themselves impossibly. That was fine. Obi-Wan only tried to avoid them, keeping his eyes down, most of the time, to avoid the dizziness that came from watching them wobble and move.

The buzzing started when he couldn’t see the ship anymore. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it ground away, low and constant, in his ears. He called out, breathing hard, hoping to get the attention of whoever was making the sound, and got no response.

Eventually, he started moving again, the buzz and hum following him, a counterpoint to the harsh sound of his breathing and the noise of the sled dragging along behind him. He was making a tremendous racket, and he knew it, but couldn’t manage to be quiet.

He could barely manage to walk a straight line, drifting to one side or the other and then catching himself. There was a city, he reminded himself, spitting down onto the ground, somewhere ahead. He just had to get there, that was all.

But he really wished the buzzing would stop, at least.

#

Obi-Wan fell, tripped over a root and went down hard. He tried to get his arms forward to catch himself, but they’d locked, apparently, and so he just sprawled across the ground, breathing for a moment.

He made a sound, a groan - a whimper - and worked his hands free of the sled. His fingers didn’t want to uncurl. There was blood, he noted, from somewhere far away. He picked, while curled on his side, at a piece of skin hanging off his palm, rubbed away by the bark, even with all the calluses he had from constant lightsaber drills.

He lay there, for another moment, forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. Memory came back slowly, through the buzzing in his ears and the taste of copper in his mouth. Master Jinn, he remembered, was hurt.

Obi-Wan sat up, slowly, the world all loose on its axis, rolling back and forth, entirely inappropriate. Master Jinn lay on the sled, still and gray. He was bleeding through his makeshift bandages, Obi-Wan noted. The blood wasn’t staying in.

Obi-Wan looked at his hands again, and then pulled off his other tunic. He got tangled in it, somehow, like he couldn’t even remember how to get undressed. But he managed, eventually, and wrapped the fabric around Master Jinn’s wounds. 

He pulled off his undertunic, as well, and tore it to pieces, wrapping them around his hands.

His throat and one side of his chest seemed to be covered in blood, too, but he couldn’t find a wound anywhere when he poked at them. Perhaps it wasn’t his, he thought. He couldn’t remember if anyone else had bled on him. They must have. It was the only thing that made sense.

It took terrible effort to get back to his feet, but he managed, eventually, retching only once on the way. There was a city. Somewhere. He just had to remember that. He gripped at the sled and lifted, his shoulders and back  _ burning _ , sharp and sudden, muscles shaking all over.

He ignored it and took a stumbling step forward.

#

Obi-Wan kept moving, the world getting blurrier and blurrier. It didn’t really matter. He didn’t need to be able to see well to walk, after all. He just had to lift a foot, move it, put it down, over and over and over again.

He drifted, inside his own head, aware of the pain in his body like the landscape of a different land. Someone’s shoulders felt like they were ripping apart, someone’s spine felt like a line of fire, someone’s legs were threatening to give every other moment, but it wasn’t him.

Obviously not, he was drifting in a land of blurry trees and a buzzing noise.

He couldn’t be both people. That didn’t make any sense.

Nothing made any sense.

#

Someone was shouting, Obi-Wan realized, eventually. He couldn’t make out the words they were shouting, not through the buzzing in his ears, but there was definitely yelling. He stopped, considering going for his saber and almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the thought.

And then there were two women in front of him, oddly identical, and their expressions were all wide eyes and moving mouths. Hands caught at him, very hot against his skin, and the touch grounded him down into his body, all at once.

Pain lashed out from every abused nerve, followed closely by exhaustion. He swayed and then sagged, dark rising up fast behind his eyes and--

#

Obi-Wan woke up and the buzzing was gone. He blinked, slowly, and the world didn’t spin all around. He was, he realized, looking up at an actual ceiling. He shifted, and his body hurt all over, but at least he was warm.

He groaned, memories a jumble of confusing flashes that didn’t make a lot of sense. He lifted a hand, wincing at the agony in his arm and shoulder, and stared at his hand. Someone had wrapped clean, white bandages around his fingers and his palm. 

He was almost certain it hadn’t been him.

Certainly he did not recall crawling into a bed and pulling a blanket over himself. He shifted, and, oh, the world moved then, spinning around and throwing him sideways inside his own head. He bent forward, breathing raggedly, trying to avoid vomiting again.

Obi-Wan managed, barely, looking down at his bare feet on a wooden floor. Two of his toenails were black. He wondered, vaguely, why, and recollection slowly filtered down into his head. There’d been...an accident. An explosion. A crash, and--

“Master Jinn?” Obi-Wan rasped, pushing to his feet all at once. He almost went down again, back a throb of agony, legs shaky as a colt’s. But he could reach the Force better than he could before, and he held onto it, keeping himself upright. 

From somewhere, he heard a noise, and he moved towards it, reaching out to brace a hand on the wall as he went. He made it out through a door - it had not been shut - reaching out with the Force, and feeling Master Jinn and--

His Master was sitting at a table, holding a cup of tea. There was a woman beside him, she seemed familiar, but Obi-Wan couldn’t recall from where. He exhaled, relief punched out of him, and sagged against the wall, breathing unsteadily. “Master,” he said, blinking, “you’re alright.”

“I am,” Master Jinn said, standing, “and pleased to see you awake, Obi-Wan.”

Something split open inside Obi-Wan’s chest, relief that almost made him dizzier. It carried him through Master Jinn saying they needed to speak and guiding him back to the room where he’d come from. Obi-Wan was relieved to sit on the bed again.

His legs had been threatening to refuse to hold him up any longer. He looked up, planning to ask for an explanation, and Master Jinn said, “Obi-Wan,” and then sighed, jaw moving soundlessly for a moment.

Obi-Wan blinked. He said, “Master?”

Master Jinn frowned, looking to the side with his hands folded in front of him. “You should know,” he said, “that the villagers sent search parties, after they found you, Apparently you managed to tell them about the crash. They found the Vizier.”

Nothing was making much sense. It took a moment before the memories came back, Jullap’s back, twisted, and his gray face and-- Obi-Wan swallowed, and said, “Is he--”

“Dead,” Master Jinn said, and Obi-Wan curled his fingers into the blankets; he hadn’t expected anything else. “Frozen to death,” he added, quietly. “Scavengers were at him, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan stared forward, swallowed nausea, remembering the Vizier and - and hoping, distantly, that he had been dead before the scavengers found him. He said, “I don’t--”

Master Jinn scrubbed a hand over his face. He said, “We were sworn to protect him, Obi-Wan. We needed his assistance in the upcoming negotiations, without him....”

Obi-Wan stared at him, stung, aching. He said, “Master, I only tried to--”

“There is no try,”Master Jinn said, and there was  _ disappointment _ in his expression, across his signature in the Force, sliding between Obi-Wan’s ribs like a knife. “You acted without thinking, and allowed panic and pain to get the best of you.”

Obi-Wan blinked quickly, loathing the hot sting in his eyes, and he - he had done his best but--

Well.

It was not such a surprise that it had not been enough. He nodded, jerkily, looking to the side, his chest one big spot of hurt, and said, “I understand, Master. And I apologize. I will strive to do better, in the future.”

Qui-Gon sighed and stood. He said, “We will discuss this more, later. After I have finished arranging us transport.”


End file.
